House of the Rising Sun
by onelildustbunni
Summary: Rogue is having problems coping with the results of her confrontation with Ms. Marvel, and so she comes to the X-men for help.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **House of the Rising Sun  
**Characters: **Rogue and the classic X-men

**Summary: **Rogue is having problems coping with the results of her confrontation with Ms. Marvel, and so she comes to the X-men for help.

**A/N: **This story is about Rogue finding her place in the X-men, and about her learning to cope with what she's done. It's based off the actual comic plotline (I haven't read them but I use for summaries), with some modifications that I feel like making to suit my story.

**Note: **The House of the Rising Sun is an old song, and has been sung in many different ways by many different people. The 'Rising Sun' has often been thought to be a brothel, but also is thought to be a gambling house, or a prison. The song can be sung as by a boy or a girl. I like Sinead O' Connor's version a lot, but she sings it as from the boy's view. I put her lyrics below but changed 'boy' to 'girl' because this is Rogue's story.

* * *

**House of the Rising Sun (as sung by Sinead O' Connor, with one modification-'boy' to 'girl')**

There is a house down in New Orleans / They call the Rising Sun / And it's been the ruin of many a poor girl / And god, I know I'm one

My mother was a tailoress / She sewed my new blue jeans / My father was a gambling man / Down in New Orleans

Now the only thing a gambler needs / Is a suitcase and a trunk / And the only time that he's satisfied / Is when he down and drunk

So mothers tell, tell your children / Not to do what I have done / Not to spend their lives in sin and misery / In the house of the Rising Sun

Well, I've got one foot on the platform / And the other on the train / I'm goin home to New Orleans / To wear that ball and chain

There is a house down in New Orleans / They call the Rising Sun / And it's been the ruin of many a poor girl / And god, I know I'm one

Poor poor girl, poor poor girl, poor poor girl, poor poor girl, poor poor girl...

**Chapter 1  
**

* * *

The gate feels very solid and heavy beneath her fingers. It is very cold, too, but this doesn't transmit very sharply through the thin material of her gloves. Less sharp and biting, more muffled and gradual…just like everything else in her life. There is a loud _crrreak _as the gate resists her push, and for a moment she hesitates. Is this really what she wants to do?

She looks up at the huge, imposing brick building that looms on the top of the hill. She has stood here several times before, for several different reasons. To spy, to observe, to strategize…but never ever to ask for help as she is about to do.

Her head lowers as she looks at the ground, the edge of the fur-trimmed green hood slipping lower to cover her eyes—almost the same shade of green. Why would they help her? _Because they're the good guys, _she reminds herself. _And I'm not. _She pauses, shakes her head. _I'm not, but I will be. Right?_

_As if, _the other voice in her head argues. The voice that's not hers. _You're a piece of shit. You're a parasite who lives through others. Give up the charade and—_

She shakes her head again, biting her lip. Hard.

_I'm not going away that easily, bitch! You don't deserve help! You're a __**MONSTER! YOU TORE ME OUT OF MY OWN SKULL—**_

_**SHUT UP! **_She shouts, in her own voice.

_Let's see how you like it! _The second person in her head hisses.

The hood slips down as she grasps at her head with her gloves hands, wincing. A throbbing migraine has just started up. She's been having these a lot recently, ever since The Accident (as she calls what happened). This one's a real doozy, the worst yet. It feels like her eyes are going to pop, like her head is being shredded inside. She sees bright colors flashing, and then a wave of nausea rolls up in the back of her throat. Before she can even register this, she's on all fours—in the snow—convulsing like she's trying to eject her organs through her mouth. The other woman screams in her ears the whole time, projecting terrifying images in her head…about things she'll make her do to herself.

_I'll make you drown yourself! __**/ **__Drink rat poison! __**/ **__Fly into space! __**/ **__Stop your heart! __**/ **__Cook on the inside! _

It lasts a while. Ten, maybe twenty minutes. Then she finally feels the other woman's voice fading, and she can see again. She gasps for air and realizes that she actually hadn't been breathing properly. Her eyes widen. The woman has been threatening her for a while, but only recently has she started to gain access to her internal organs.

She looks up at the big imposing building on the hill again with bloodshot eyes, dull with migraine. _Don't have much of a choice, _she thinks grimly, in her own tired voice.

_I have to do this before there's nothing left. _

After a few moments she gets to her feet and brushes the snow off of her clothing. She sees a patch of semi-frozen vomit on the front of her top and grimaces at the thought of a great first impression. Then she finds herself grinning, for the first time in what seems like years. Just a slight grin, but an expression other than pain or worry nonetheless. _Typical me, _she thinks, picking up a handful of snow and trying to scrub the mess off. Finally satisfied, she squares her shoulders and moves further up the snow covered pathway, her hood flopping on her back.

As she nears the front door, however, her newfound courage begins to wane again. Along with everything else in the 'school', it looks impressive. Hand-carved hardwood. Probably cost more than her entire room back home…the home she shared with her pseudo mother, Raven. She frowns slightly, shakes her head. It isn't _her_ room anymore. She gave it up.

She doesn't even want to think about giving up her mother. She pulls her hood back up, her eyebrows drawing together, frowning slightly as she concentrates on the door. Well, how do you approach anyone's house? _Knock on the door. _Summing up every scrap of resolve she has, she raises her fist and raps on the door.

_**BAM!**_

The door rattles on its hinges, and she ceases immediately, wincing. She keeps forgetting how strong she is nowadays. The slightest touch is all she needs to accomplish feats that before took all her muscle power. Peering at the door, she sees that she's caused a slight crack along the surface. _Oh my lord, _she thinks, closing her eyes and feeling like a grade-A asshole. A moment later, she raises her hand again and knocks much more softly and timidly.

The ground begins to shake slightly. She looks around her in panic. Did she cause this? Then she realizes the shaking is _footsteps, _approaching the door. To answer it. She swallows, and raises her chin, her expression resolute. She will _not _run, no matter how tempting the thought is.

The door opens, and a very imposing figure looks down at her, the winter sun gleaming off of his steel skin. He's absolutely huge, towering about a foot and a half above her. She begins to tremble in fear.

"P-please don't hit me!" she exclaims, raising her hands. She feels so _tiny _compared to this behemoth…this behemoth who is the X-men's power-hitter and tank. He's made of solid organic steel, and weighs almost five hundred pounds. He could crush her into a diamond without thinking about it.

"Rogue!" he exclaims, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?" His voice has a echoing metallic quality to it. "Are you attacking us?"

"No, no!" She raises her hands in a gesture of peace. She's surprised that he hadn't just punched her lights out; she was sure she'd be on some kind of attack-on-sight list for the X-men, after what she's done. Should she lie about why she's here? _No, that's not what you're here to do, _she reminds herself, even as the other voice encourages her gleefully. _Lie for all you're worth, kiddo, _she says. _Let's see how they like that._

Shaking her head slightly, she takes a deep breath. "Ah…ah know ah haven't been your friend in the past." She swallows. "But ah…ah'm in hot water up to my ears…and ah sure could use some friends like y'all right about now." She hesitates. "You see…ah'm as good as dead if you don't let me talk to your boss-man."

Colossus frowns down at her, considering her words. "Boss-man?" he asks, after about a minute. "You mean Professor Xavier, da?"

Rogue nods, also frowning, earnestly. "Yeah, him. The Professor. If he'll see me." She pauses, noticing now that the enormous steel man is wearing a frilly apron covered in an apple print. "What's with the get-up?" she can't help asking.

His angry expression wavers slightly. "I was baking a quiche," he says.

"Oh." She blinks. "What kind?"

"Ham and egg," he says, his expression forming into a scowl. "But you can't have any."

Rogue smiles, very slightly. "Ah can understand that," she says. "May ah come in?"

Colossus looks away. "What do you say, Professor?" he asks out loud.

She bites her lip and nervously clasps her fingers together. The man glances down at her sharply. "Don't do that," he orders.

"Oh, sorry," she says, bringing her hands apart again. He's worried she'll take off the gloves and steal his powers. No wonder—she's done it before.

"He'll see you," Colossus says tersely. "In the drawing room. Follow me."

Rogue feels her heart squeeze out an extra beat, of relief. The first step. She'd secretly thought the Professor wouldn't even see her. He steps aside, and she steps _inside, _for the first time in her life as a guest to the school rather than an enemy.

They head into a very lavish and old looking hallway, with dark hardwood floors and floral wallpaper. Her eyes dart around like crazy as she tries to take it all in. Beautiful paintings are hung in intervals, paintings which seem like doorways to other worlds. She shakes her head slightly. How can the Professor afford all this?

After what seems like an eternity but in reality is only about half a minute they reach what she assumes is the drawing room: a small meeting space, decorated in the same fashion in the hallway but also lined with velvet couches and elegant wood furniture, circa 18th or 19th century. In a space between a couch and a chair waits Professor Xavier, in his wheelchair. His bald head gleams slightly in the dim lights, coming from the two old-fashioned shade lamps in the corners of the room.

He's holding a teacup in his hands, but his eyes are on them as they approach. Rather, they are on _her. _The expression on his weathered face is serious. Very serious.

From the few times Rogue has seen the professor in the past, she's always thought him to be a very distinguished man of high intelligence and deep compassion. And fairness. This impression had been so great that she had been able to sense this even though she had sealed herself off to notions like compassion and fairness.

"Hello, Rogue," he says, in his highly cultured voice. It's always made her feel like a complete backwoods hick, a feeling she resents. Or has always resented in the past. Right now…right now it's a comforting thought, that someone might know more than her. It means maybe someone can fix her.

He gestures to the coffee table in front of him, on which is a porcelain tea service. "Please, Peter, pour our guest a cup of tea. Rogue, you may sit anywhere you like." The professor pauses. "We will begin our business when the other members of this household arrive."

"Ah thought—" Rogue's eyes widen. "Please, couldn't ah talk to you alone first? Ah mean—" she sees Peter's incredulous look. "—not _totally _alone…he could wait at the door or something…but…ah…" she looks down, tears rising to her eyes. "It's really hard for me to do this, and ah don't know if ah can do it if everyone's judgin' me, you know?"

Professor Xavier's gaze is hard and searching. "Precisely," he says, his voice firm. "If you truly wish to convince me that you want our assistance…you will ask _everyone."_

She hesitates, then she moves to one of the sofas and sits down without another word. He's right. What she's done…killed a woman…can't be taken lightly. Other people get the death penalty for their actions. Why should she be any different? _Because it was an accident! _a part of her says desperately. The other part—the Carol Danvers part—feels sick glee at the thought that her murderer is now facing justice of a sort.

Rogue hangs her head in her hands. Colossus clears his throat, and she realizes he's trying to pass her a cup of tea. She frowns. "Thanks, but ah can't stomach anything right now."

"Drink it," Colossus advises, his expression dark, like he'll murder her if she doesn't accept the cup.

So she does, with a nervous smile of thanks.

**…**

Rogue is shaking again.

She's being scrutinized by eight pairs of eyes. Eyes which have witnessed her doing horrible things. Spying. Stealing. Hurting. Helping a terrorist group orchestrate activities that left dozens of people permanently injured. Destroying property. And now…killing.

She's shaking so hard the teacup is rattling on the saucer, the hot liquid splashing all over. Closing her eyes, she forces herself to put the cup down on the coffee table before she breaks it and ruins the Professor's beautiful tea service.

"In case anyone did not know…this is Rogue," a deep and feminine voice announces. Storm, the woman with dark skin and shocking white hair who can call lightning down from the sky and create indoor tornadoes. "She is a member of the Brotherhood-yes, the _same_ Brotherhood who's been on the news so much lately. The group behind the Golden Gate bridge bombing. The group behind the attack on the Pentagon. Professor, why haven't we alerted S.H.I.E.L.D. yet?"

"Please, Storm," the Professor replies, his voice calm. "I would like to hear what she has to say for herself first."

"She can absorb powers, abilities and memories through physical contact," Colossus warns. "Don't let her touch you."

The Professor looks to the creature-like man crouching on the arm of one of the sofas. Rogue knows a surprising amount about this X-man. His codename is Nightcrawler, and he is a teleporter…but his real name is Kurt Wagner, and he grew up in Germany. Raven spoke about him one late night in the kitchen, during a heart-to-heart with Irene…her voice small and strained, as if she was crying. She didn't know that Rogue was eavesdropping from the stairs.

"Thank you for your concern, Nightcrawler, but she is alone," the Professor says. "I have scanned the estate quite thoroughly." He looks at her again. "What are you here for?"

Rogue's eyebrows draw together. "Ah know we ain't always been on good terms—"

"We aren't on _any_ terms!" a teenage girl interrupts. She has fluffy brown hair, and her face is plastered with freckles. Not someone she's really encountered much before…maybe once. Some ghost power or something.

The Professor silences her with a look. "Go on," he instructs.

"She's right," Rogue says, trying to keep her voice steady. "We ain't been on talking terms…because ah've done some really stupid things." She pauses. "This last one is a doozy, though…and ah'm afraid ah might not live long enough to fix my ways if…if no one can fix me."

"Fix you?" Storm asks.

Rogue swallows. "Well…you ever hear the term 'little pitchers have big ears'?"

There is a grunt of acknowledgement from the corner of the room. She glances at the source, and sees the eighth pair of eyes…belonging to the more shadowy member of this 'school', Wolverine. She's heard stories—mostly from Mystique—warning her to keep her distance unless she's looking to get something cut off. So far, he hasn't said a word.

"Ah'm kind of guilty of eavesdropping, here and there," Rogue explains. "It's not something ah'm proud of, but around Raven's household…Mystique's ah mean…" she frowns. "It's the only way ah knew what was going on, sometimes."

"You lived in Mystique's _house?!" _demands the teenage girl again. "God, _why_ are we—"

"Can it, Kitty," Wolverine says sharply. "We're hearing her out."

Kitty falls silent, but she looks furious.

"One night I heard them talking in the kitchen, her and Irene." Rogue hesitates. "Irene can see the future, you know. Her name is Destiny."

"We know about Destiny," Professor Xavier says. "Continue."

Rogue takes a shaky breath. "Irene said that…that Ms. Marvel is 'intimately tied to a great danger' that would hurt me. Raven…Mystique…swore she wouldn't let that happen…that she'd take care of it. She said she'd heard that Ms. Marvel was in San Francisco." She hesitates. "But ah wasn't going to let anyone fight my battles for me. So ah went there on my own and ah…" she trails off, her breathing growing short. _Damn it, not now! _she pleads with Carol internally. _I'm_ t_rying to tell them!_

_I have nothing to do with it, _Carol replies icily. _This is all you, cupcake. _

"Deep breaths," Professor Xavier advises. His voice is calming.

Rogue closes her eyes and tries to concentrate on breathing. It feels like each breath is being ripped through her lungs, against their will. The room is shrinking, the weight of the gazes is growing heavier and heavier, her pores are squeezing out perspiration…and then, just as suddenly, the panic attack fades away. She lets out a shuddering breath and opens her eyes again.

"Ah went to San Francisco myself and confronted Ms. Marvel," she says, her voice surprisingly steady considering that she just nearly asphyxiated herself. "We fought. Ah thought—my intentions were just to scare her away…to show her ah wasn't easy pickings. Ah tried to borrow her powers and…" Rogue looks down at her gloved fingers. She closes her eyes. "Something went wrong. Real wrong."

"You absorbed her powers permanently," Professor Xavier says, frowning. "Along with her mind. That is why you have two diametrically opposed thought patterns."

Rogue nods, looking at him again. "Ah didn't ever _mean _for it to be permanent. It hurt me as much as it hurt her and…" she hesitates. Now for the hard part. "Ah blanked out. Ah don't know what happened after ah touched her. But ah'm afraid…" she looks at the ground, rubs the back of her neck. "Oh lord, ah think ah might have killed her."

Silence, throughout the room. She looks up at the Professor again. "And now Carol's trying to kill me. She's getting control of my body, in these crazy black-out periods. Ah'm afraid of what she's gonna make me do. She's kind of come unhinged after—after all of this. Ah don't know if it's just me she's gonna hurt or—or—please. Ah need your help, before something—"

"You have a lot of nerve asking _us_ to help you with this mess!" Kitty snaps.

"Please, Kitty," the Professor says, his expression sober. "Let her continue."

Rogue clears her throat. "Something bad is coming, ah just know it. And not only that, but my powers…they're out of control. Ah can't touch _anyone _now. Ah used to be able to control it a bit…but just brushing against someone starts the transfer now…and sometimes ah get confused as to what's me and what's…someone else."

"An apt punishment for your crimes," Nightcrawler says, his lip curled in a sneer.

She feels tears welling up in her eyes. "Ah tried. Ah _tried _to make Raven understand that what we were doing was wrong. Ah didn't really want to do those things no more than you wanted me to do them. Ah thought—ah love Raven like a mother. Ah thought ah could make her stop before things got bad." She pauses. "She didn't always used to be like this. She was a good woman…she and Irene…they took me in when I needed it, they took care of me and they never hit me, not like—" she closes her eyes, shakes her head. _Not sharing that. _"Ah thought ah could make it come back. But ah was wrong. You're my last hope, Professor."

Kitty makes a scoffing noise.

Professor Xavier looks at her. "Kitty, that is quite enough."

"I didn't say anything!" she protests.

"You were projecting some rather unsavory thoughts."

"That's not fair!" she exclaims. "This all isn't fair! Why are we evening listening to her?"

"Are we being fair to Rogue?" the Professor counters.

"Is there any reason why we _should_ be?" Nightcrawler asks.

Silence for a moment.

"I accept your dislike of Rogue," the Professor says to the room. "I would rather not examine her surrounded by such concentrated negative emotions." He squares his shoulders. "I will call you back when I am finished with my survey."

"She just admitted to killing a woman," Storm asks sharply. "Is it wise to leave you alone with her?"

Professor Xavier looks at Rogue, who is sitting with her head hung. "Given her mental state at the moment…and her current confusion…I doubt we have anything to fear from her," he says gently.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for reading, glad y'all enjoy it! I'm interested to see what people think of my Rogue. I haven't written the classic X-men for a good long while now...hope you continue liking it!**

**For anyone who was wondering, this is a large story posted in chapters, not a one-shot. It's about Rogue finding her place in the X-men and learning to live with what she's done. It's following the actual comic plot (with some modifications). Colossus was actually baking a quiche when Rogue came to the mansion seeking their help. Yes, that *happened*. The apple apron was my add though. ^_^**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

After what feels like a century, the Professor sits back in his wheelchair, his fingers arched in front of his with the tips touching under his chin. "You understand, Rogue, why this is necessary," he says gravely.

Rogue nods, her eyebrows drawn together. "Ah haven't exactly given y'all much reason to trust me," she says, a little sadly.

"No, you have not." The Professor frowns. "But perhaps I understand your reasoning a little better now. I cannot say that it is correct, or sound. Then again, love is rarely ever a cause for either."

She closes her eyes. "No, it sure isn't."

He is silent for a few moments. "I have made my decision…and that is to offer you probationary admission to our organization. The others are on their way back to this room now. I ask that you please treat their reactions with patience. They do not have the advantages I do…to be able to go inside a person's mind and see their true intentions, their thoughts and feelings. Granted that I have not really gotten a complete picture of your mind, as the fragmenting and opposing thought-patterns make it very difficult…but nonetheless they will have far less insight than me."

"Ah understand." Rogue smiles slightly. "Thank you, Professor. Ah'll do my best to earn your trust."

He gives her a small smile back. "That would be advisable."

They wait in relative silence for a few minutes as the others filter back into the room. Several of them have not said a word during the entire debate, such as Wolverine and Cyclops, another X-man that she recognizes. Most seem apprehensive, no doubt dreading the idea of having her join their tight-knit group.

"I have questioned Rogue at length," Professor Xavier announces after everyone has settled. "And I am convinced of both her need, and her sincerity." He looks at his 'students', his eyebrows arched. "I believe that you all trust my opinions, or you would not be here at the school."

Silence, again.

"I have decided to admit Rogue to both the school and the X-men as a probationary member," Professor Xavier announces.

"No!" Storm says. "Professor…as the team's leader, I feel I am entitled to some say in the matter. How are we supposed to fight beside someone we dare not trust?"

The Professor opens his mouth as if to answer, then freezes. His eyes move to the entry way of the drawing room, his eyebrows arching even further. "I believe we have an unexpected—"

Rogue grabs her head—which has just started buzzing like crazy—and leaps to her feet. Moments later, the sound of energy zooming down the hallway reaches her ears—she sees Wolverine turn to look too—and then, just like that, she's being punched in the face.

And what a punch it is. She sees stars and light and loses track of where she is for a few minutes. Her ears are filled with a roaring sound. When her vision clears, she realizes that she's sailing backward through the air…tens of _thousands _of feet above the ground. Miles. A twist of her head shows that she's approaching a vast darkness.

_Oh lord, that's space! _She realizes with a panicky jolt. _I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to—_then she remembers that she can fly now. She seizes control of her body and begins to hurtle down, down, ever downward…in a straight line back toward the school. She grits her teeth, her eyes stinging from the cold blast of the moisture-filled air in her face. As she nears the ground she slices through a cloud of unshed snow and emerges on the other side as a frost-covered sculpture, her hair now almost entirely white instead of just the bangs.

Finally the school becomes visible again. She aims for the giant hole in the roof, but then notices a figure floating in the air above the grounds, making a come-hither gesture. The figure is glowing brilliantly, her hair a blazing fire, her skin a dark red color.

"Back for more?!" the woman yells, over the wind and atmosphere between them. Rogue raises her eyebrows as she zips to the ground and lands in an explosion of snow and wet dirt clods, a few feet away. "Who in the heck are you?" she asks, baffled.

"Figure it out!" her attacker shouts, and before Rogue knows what's happening, she's on her again. _BAM! _as her fist rams into her solar plexus. She skids backward, through the snow and into the Professor's cement fountain—_crunch! _

She sits up, unharmed, but she can't say the same for his property. "Hey! Don't—"

"You didn't stop when _I _asked you to!" the woman screams, now hovering above her. "You're going to _pay, _you fucking life-thief!"

Rogue feels weak. She recognizes the voice, even though it's all echo-y and distorted. "C-Carol?!" she stammers.

"Bingo!" Carol snaps as she lunges in for the kill again. She wraps her incredibly powerful fingers around Rogue's throat, and even though she's invulnerable now…so is Carol. Even more so.

"Hnnngh—" she exclaims, feeling the woman's thumbs slowly crushing her windpipe.

The school's inhabitants have now emerged. "Stop this!" Professor Xavier shouts. "Colossus, please—"

He's already running toward the woman, his hand outstretched. "Stop!" Colossus orders, grabbing hold of her bicep, but he can't pull her away.

"Rogue is under my roof now, and has my protection!" Professor Xavier shouts to Carol. "If you do not let her go, I will be forced to put you into mental stasis."

"How can you say that?!" Carol demands, acknowledging his presence for the first time. "You _know_ what she did to me! You of all people should know!"

"Rogue has repented and been forgiven," Storm says, her voice full of sarcasm. "Behold…our newest X-man. Apparently we accept criminals now."

"Is this true?" Carol asks, looking at Professor Xavier. "How can you be so _cruel?_" She suddenly lets Rogue go, her skin rippling slightly as it returns to a more natural tone. Fair skin. Blond hair. Carol Danvers, in the flesh. "She destroyed my _life. _You know this. All of you."

"If Rogue stays…I go," Storm says immediately.

"We _all_ go," Nightcrawler adds.

"So we pick and choose whom to help now, do we?" the Professor asks, his expression very stern. "Some are worthy and others are not."

"Not murderers," Storm hisses. "I will not work with a murderer!"

"Well, shoot," Wolverine says, folding his arms. "I guess I'll have to leave, then."

There is an uncomfortable pause.

"I didn't say that—" Storm says.

He raises a hand. "Don't be biased, 'Ro. Doesn't fit you well, what with your spotless track record."

She glares at him. "Stealing is not the same as _killing, _Logan."

"She said it was an accident," Wolverine replies. "More than I can say for what I've had to do in my time."

"She could have been lying," Kitty points out.

"No," Colossus says. "He would have smelled it."

Everyone falls silent again, confused. Carol glares at Wolverine. "Are you seriously _defending _her, Logan? My murderer? I thought you were my friend!"

"Seeing as you're literally talking to me right now…I have a hard time accepting the idea that she killed you," he says calmly. "But I'm not defending her. I wasn't there. All I know is what she told us, and that it was the truth." He pauses. "And if it was the truth, rejecting her would be pretty unfair, seeing as they gave _me _a chance."

"I don't want her on the team…but Xavier has spoken," Colossus says, his voice firm. "I trust him. I am going to put aside my fear and accept Rogue as one of us." He looks around the semi-circle. "Please, everyone…do the same."

Kitty hesitates. "Fine. I'll never like her, though. _Ever._"

"I agree," Nightcrawler says.

Storm remains silent.

Professor Xavier looks at Carol.

"What do you want from me?" she asks, her voice sharp. "Understanding? _Approval?" _ She shakes her head. "I guess you have the former. If I were in your shoes…I don't know. But I'm not." She points at Rogue, who is still sitting against the fountain. "She tore my life and soul to shreds. I can _never _forgive her for that. But…I have nothing to lose." She shrugs. "I'm no X-man. And you know what? All of a sudden, I'm _glad _about that."

"Carol—" Wolverine says, making a move like he's going to grab her arm, but she's suddenly gone, having turned back into whatever her glowing form was. Rogue sags against the cement fountain in relief, her eyes sliding shut.

"Will she be back?" she asks timidly.

"In time, perhaps," Nightcrawler says, sounding a little less stiff than before. "When the hurt is less."

"Storm, you never gave us your final word on the matter," Professor Xavier says. "Will you stay?"

The African woman looks down at Rogue, her expression impassive. "Both you and Carol are right, Professor," she says finally. "Which is the better road to follow? I must take some time to think."

She turns and walks away from them, down the driveway, her hands cupping her elbows as she hugs her arms to herself. The other people start to file back into the school.

"Better get on the horn with the contractors, Chuck," Wolverine says, glancing at the debris-littered area surrounding the drawing room. "Don't think leaving the roof busted for too long is a good idea, seeing as we got a moody weather-goddess on our hands and all."

Professor Xavier bows his head and rubs the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Right," he says, sounding tired. "And I suppose the fountain will need repairing. The landscaping can wait until the spring thaw though." He reaches down and begins to wheel himself back into the school. Rogue tilts her head back, trying to absorb what's just happened.

_I'm not a killer, _she thinks. That's the first and foremost earth-shattering thought on her brain. The Carol inside her mind seems a little rattled by this idea too, and is kind of quiet. She doubts it will last.

The second big thought is that she's now one of the good guys. Officially. Seven out of eight have accepted her presence…and the last one might come around. This is…this is something that will take some adjusting. She opens her eyes, looks over her shoulder and sees that Wolverine is still standing there, watching her thoughtfully.

"Hurt?" he asks.

She shakes her head.

He raises his eyebrows. "You sure? She hit you pretty hard."

Rogue shrugs. "Fine," she says, finally pushing herself away from the fountain. She looks down and sees—in astonishment—that she had been sitting in a body-shaped imprint about a half-foot deep, the rest of the concrete around it covered in spider-web cracks. "God _damn!_" she says in amazement.

"Like I said, she got you good."

"Ah can't believe ah'm okay." Rogue frowns. "Ah was—just a couple of weeks ago—ah almost broke my _finger_ by slamming it in a door…and now…" she looks up at the entrance. "Ah almost broke your _door _by _knocking _on it."

Logan looks over his shoulder at the damage. "How about that," he says.

"Ah'm _so _sorry. Ah'll—ah'll get y'all a new one, somehow," she says. "When ah have money."

"Don't worry about it," he says. "We've all done a number on this place at some point."

She nods slightly, but doesn't feel any better. "Ah'll work real hard to stop breaking things, I swear."

"I'm sure the Professor would appreciate that." He folds his arms. "You like a beer?"

Rogue nods. "Ah sure could use a drink after all this."

"Sure." He heads back into the school, and after a moment she climbs the stairs and enters her new home.

**…**

"God dammit!" Rogue swears as the brush she's been using to smooth her hair snaps in two. Her face twisting, she throws the remaining handle at her mirror, which corresponds with a lovely smashing noise. She falls back onto her bed, hands covering her face as she struggles to regain her patience.

This first week at the school has been just awful. No one trusts her, not one iota. Even Wolverine—who has seemed initially decent—has been gruff and monosyllabic. The Professor is very flat and grim when he addresses her. The Carol in her head has been raising hell at every opportunity. She made Rogue choke on her dinner two nights ago. She's upset her stomach, interrupted her powers at inopportune moments—such as when she was thirty feet in the air during one of the 'Danger Room sessions'—and has given her three bouts of seizures to count. Then there's the moment where she seized control of her body and tried to make it look like she was going to steal Colossus's powers.

But that's not all. The absolute cherry on the top of her sundae is the fact that she _can't stop breaking things. _No matter what she does—no matter how delicately she tries to handle things, pretending that they are soft fluffy kittens—they crumble in her hands. They fall into pieces. She literally turned a pretzel into a diamond at lunch today. Her books all bear deep thumb gouges, and she has torn her favorite boots in trying to put them on. _She broke a car door by shutting it softly._

Rogue rubs her eyes, willing the bitter tears away. She reminds herself that this is the life she's chosen, the life of a good guy. Somehow, somewhere, this makes sense. The path to redemption can't be lined with roses, now, can it?

She gets up and moves to the bathroom to find her broom and dustpan. The one good thing about this place is no one seems to twitch if there's a shattering noise. The only cause for alarm seems to be if the shatter is accompanied by an earth-shaking rumble.

After a few minutes she's cleaned up the mess and restored the tools to their cupboard. She supposes she'll ask the Professor for a new mirror next week. Let him finish dealing with the car door first. She'd been very hesitant to inform him about it at first, but Colossus had explained that the Professor has asked that they keep him updated on broken equipment. Apparently he expects these situations.

Rogue has not heard from Raven yet. She wonders if her pseudo mother read the note she'd left on her bed, beside the stuffed bear she and Irene had given her eleven years ago, on her fourteenth birthday. Probably not. Her mother can be unforgiving. She'd have taken one look at the note and erased all thoughts of Rogue from her heart.

She tries to ignore the feelings of betrayal. She's doing the right thing now. It's still hard, and this adds to her already increasing frustration about not being in control of herself.

_Fresh air is what I need, _she thinks. She heads down the hallway and onto the back porch—unexpectedly into Wolverine's private and heated argument.

"Damn it, Mariko, you can't call me like this and tell me to stay away!" he's shouting into his cell phone, glaring out across the property. "You _know_ I have to do something! No, listen—" he makes an expression of extreme impatience and flings his cell phone over the railing, into the darkness, then stands with his head hung.

Rogue reaches behind herself and shuts the door, hard, to announce her presence. Both windows shatter and the doorknob snaps off in her hand. "Shit!" she grumbles, under her breath.

"I knew you were there," he says, without looking at her.

"Oh." She looks at the knob in her hand then sets it on the porch railing as delicately as she can. To her relief, nothing collapses. "Sorry."

"For?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Seemed like a private conversation, y'know?"

"It was over." He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a package of cigarettes. "Smoke?"

"Okay," she says, and accepts the offered tube. "Thanks."

He says nothing. There is a flicker of light in the darkness as he pops open his lighter. A moment later he offers this to her as well. They stand for a little while in silence, smoke drifting off into the night.

"Ah'm sorry if ah did something to offend you," Rogue says. She's always been a fairly forward and confrontational person, which probably has something to do with her getting into situations like this disaster with Carol Danvers.

Wolverine looks at her. "Huh?"

She hesitates. "Ah thought…you've been kind of snippy lately."

He raises his eyebrows. "You have examples?"

Rogue feels stupid. "Nevermind." She looks away. "Ah don't know you people…and ah guess ah knew the most ah could hope for was a frosty welcome."

"They'll warm up to you," he says. "Give 'em time."

"Oh." She pauses. "So you don't regret standing up for me?"

"I stood up for you?" he asks, sounding surprised.

Rogue gives him a puzzled look. "Yeah. Remember? You said—"

"I pointed out a flaw in their logic," he cuts her off. "That's hardly standing up for you."

"You could have said nothing," she says.

He shrugs. "Dante said the hottest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of great moral crisis. I wasn't gonna stand there and let Chuck's kids be biased."

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, thanks anyways. It's the only nice thing anyone's done for me in a while."

"You'll pay it forward at some point." He flicks the end of his cigarette. "So, you up for an adventure?"

Rogue coughs slightly, having been mid-inhale. "What—now?"

"I have to go stop a wedding in Japan, and there's gonna be guns and possibly some super-types," he says vaguely. "I'm gonna ask Kurt and Pete if they'll come…could use an extra hand, if you're up for it."

"Oh, uh, sure," She says. "Why the hell not?"

He nods, drops his cigarette to the ground and grinds it with his boot heel, then picks it up and puts it in an ashtray by the door. "That's the spirit," he says, heading out into the yard and picking up the phone he'd thrown away a few minutes ago. Shoving it back in his pocket he heads back into the school, and after a few moment Rogue stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray and follows, very curious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3  
**

* * *

Rogue is now sitting in the back of the X-men's Blackbird jet with a vague feeling of disbelief. She's spent so long fearing the sight and sound of the jet's engines approaching. Now she's _in _it, travelling as a willing passenger, en route to…to what?

She looks to her right, at Colossus, who is reading a novel. He looks calm and relaxed. In the front, Wolverine is piloting the jet, and Nightcrawler is assisting him. They seem at ease as well, occasionally trading jokes back and forth about how dark it is out. Every so often, Colossus says something that makes them both chuckle. She kind of gets the feeling that this is something they do often, a guy-thing, and she wonders why she's been brought along.

_Oh, right. My new powers. _She looks out the window at the darkness, and sees nothing. She leans back in her seat and closes her eyes slightly, trying to enjoy the peace in her head. Carol has been quiet for about an hour now, maybe because she's interested in what's happening too. She doesn't especially feel like looking a gift horse in the mouth. She just wants to enjoy the gift.

"You play cards?" Wolverine asks, loudly, in her direction. Her eyes snap open, and for a moment she nods then realizes he can't see behind him. "Oh, yeah. Sure."

"Logan—" Nightcrawler says apprehensively. "Bringing her on an excursion is one thing—"

"What, you against having another pool to rob from, elf?"

Nightcrawler pauses. "_Nein…_but…"

"We go bar hopping on Friday nights," Wolverine continues, ignoring his friend's protest. "The admission fee is buying everyone a round."

"Okay," Rogue says, feeling puzzled. She glances at Colossus, and sees that his eyebrows are also raised. "Why're you inviting me?"

"No offense," Wolverine replies grimly. "But I don't think you can expect any invites from the girls anytime soon."

She closes her eyes. _Of course not_. "Thanks, but ah don't need pity."

"It's not pity. Good for teambuilding. Right?"

"_Da_," Colossus says. "You should join us."

"Well…if you're sure." Rogue shrugs. "Okay."

They go on talking about something else up front, and she closes her eyes again. She's smart enough to know that the invitation has to be related to her earlier comments about the frosty welcome, but it's useless to push away the kind gesture. If she makes an effort to fit in then maybe pity will not be part of it anymore.

**…**

"Whoa! Calm down!"

"Wha-?" Rogue shakes her head. Colossus is standing over her—in full steel form—his hands pinning her wrists to the sides of her chair.

"Are you back?" he demands.

"Am ah back…where did ah go?" she blinks. "Was ah—did Carol take control?"

"_Carol?_" Wolverine asks, front the front seat. "Is _that_ who you were?"

Rogue looks up at Colossus with wide eyes. "Oh, lord," she says. "Ah'm so sorry. Ah…ah drifted off for a moment and…"

"You had some kind of fit," he replies, his features stern. "And tried to make the jet crash."

"Nearly succeeded," Wolverine adds.

"Jesus." Rogue looks down. "Ah could've killed y'all."

Colossus grins. "_Nyet. _You would have to try harder than that."

"Ah don't want to try," she says.

"Well, good," Wolverine says from the front. "We're about two hours away now. Mind waiting till we're on the ground to destroy the jet?"

"No problem," she says. She feels mortified about the incident, but everyone seems to have accepted her explanation. She feels puzzled. Then she remembers that these are the same people who dealt with Jean Grey and the Phoenix ordeal a few years ago. Obviously, possession is not a new concept to them.

She spends the rest of the flight struggling not to fall asleep. It's hard, but somehow she succeeds. The landing is smooth and practiced, and quite quick. Colossus unbuckles himself and she follows suit, thrilled that she will be able to stretch her legs and no longer worry about slipping up with her Carol-control and crashing the jet. As they descend the small staircase-ramp to the ground, however, she makes the mistake of jumping down the last few steps.

_**KA-BLAM!**_

The tarmac beneath her feet caves in as her feet punch through it, and she is thrown to her knees in a giant sinkhole of her making. Sitting up, she sees that Wolverine and Nightcrawler are watching her from the top of the ramp with similar expressions of surprise.

"_Mein Gott,_" the latter murmurs.

Rogue feels a flush of shame rising to her cheeks. She crawls out of the hole and gets to her feet, teeth gritted. What a stupid power to have. How the hell did Carol ever manage to live with it?

"Guess the white in your hair is a warning stripe," Wolverine comments, a few minutes later, as they are walking toward the car rental establishment.

She closes her eyes. "Shut up."

"You'll get the hang of it."

They enter the business—'_Europcar'_—and Colossus makes an obvious point of not allowing Rogue to touch the glass door. She is further annoyed, but at the same time grateful. She would rather have them making fun of her than fearing that she is about to betray them. _They're fools, _Carol whispers in her ear. _Wait till they see what you really are. You're a villain, plain and simple. You __**liked**__ it when you thought you'd killed me, didn't you?_

Rogue stops in her tracks, horrified. _No, no, of course not! I never—_

"Oooph—" Colossus has just walked into her back, and he almost loses his balance. The other two stop to watch this, raising their eyebrows.

"Sorry," Rogue says, shaking her head to clear it and moving on towards the counter. No one is manning it, so she reaches out and taps the service bell.

_**CRUNCH!**_

"_Shit!"_ she exclaims, looking at the flattened metal disc that used to be a dome shape. "God _damn _it! Can't ah do _anything _right?!"

"Take it easy," Colossus says, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know, _da, _it is frustrating. Be patient…you will learn. It will not take long. But it does take time."

Breathing out through her nose, Rogue closes her eyes and nods. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he says.

The desk attendant—a young woman—emerges from a hallway behind the counter and addresses Wolverine, who is waiting expectantly. "How may I help you?" Her English is almost immaculate.

"We need a car for two days," he replies. "I'll be the driver. Here's my license." He slaps a card down on the counter. The attendant nods and begins to type the information into her computer, her expression serious. "May I see your credit card?"

**…**

Rogue is now sitting in the back of a rented red Toyota Prius, window rolled down and elbow hanging over the door. The wind of their travel rushes through her hair, helping her to feel more awake, which is crucial because Wolverine says they're going to make a stop before they turn in at the hotel for the night. It had been daytime here during his phone call. Their flight had taken about six hours—much less time in the Blackbird than in a commercial jet—but time had passed nonetheless, and it is now around seven at night here…versus three AM back home.

She watches the landscape pass with interest. She's never been to Japan. Heck, she's never been off the North American continent. _Crazy places my life takes me, _she thinks absently. _New York…San Francisco…the atmosphere…Japan…and me just a little ol' Southern girl. _

_You mean an inbred backwoods hick, _Carol says snidely.

Rogue frowns. _No, I'm not. And I didn't mean to kill you. I'm so grateful I didn't. It was all an accident._

_Right. And I'm Joan of Ark. _Carol rolls her eyes. Their eyes. _Face it, kid, you were on a power-trip when you thought I was dead. _

"Almost there," Wolverine announces. "Won't take long."

A few minutes later they pull up to a flat, low building. It is quite obviously modern but is built with traditional style in mind, with curving roofs that rise to points at the corners, and sliding doors. There are beautiful paper lanterns on poles lighting the courtyard in ordered rows. Everyone gets out of the car, and after a moment she follows suit. This might be one of the things she is needed for.

"What are we doing here?" Colossus asks.

"Just talking to my friend," Wolverine says. "See if we can avoid making a scene at the wedding."

"Wait," Rogue says. "Why would _we_ make a scene? Ah thought you said there was going to be an attack."

"She's making a mistake," he says patiently. "Letting herself be forced into an arranged marriage with some bad people. She's the head of her clan now…and a very, very wealthy woman. Her father's dead and she doesn't need to go through with it anymore."

"That hardly seems like a way to honor his wishes," Rogue says, her tone full of disapproval.

"Her father was a crimelord," Nightcrawler says. "_The _crimelord. Shingen. Mystique is nothing compared to him." He hesitates. "Sorry."

"Not arguing," Rogue says, holding up a hand. "And ah'll just hold my tongue from here on out. Seems ah have no clue what ah'm talking about."

"Not your fault," Colossus says. "This is all very confusing. I usually just punch when told." He gives her a brief smile, and she feels a little better. Wolverine locks the doors of the Prius and they all head toward what seems like the front doors of the establishment, which he explains is the home of the Yashida clan.

**…**

Rogue is now waiting in a very strange room with paper walls, as Wolverine talks with his friend elsewhere. Nightcrawler and Colossus are also waiting with her. They seem just as uncomfortable as she is, although they try not to show it. It has been quite a while since their companion had told them he would 'be right back'.

She tries not to look at the walls, thinking what havoc she could wreak with a single touch. _D__estroy the entire place. _She shoves her gloved hands into the small, hidden pockets of her top and bites her lip. "Nice house y'all got here," she says to the person waiting by the door, whom she assumes is a guard of some sort. The features and garb of this individual are so androgynous that she really has no idea if their silent party is a man or a woman; tightly slicked back hair, smooth but sharp features and formless but elegant kimono in a neutral dark gray color.

The person doesn't answer her, just gives her a look like she's a complete idiot. Back home, Rogue might take offense to this—she's got a little bit of a temper if she does say so herself—but here she feels so out of place to begin with that she assumes that she's done something to deserve it. She flushes slightly and looks at Colossus, who is standing with his arms folded as he pretends to admire a rice-paper painting.

"Ah guess ah'm not the only one here who feels like a bull in a china shop," she says. The silence is starting to get to her…and given that she's got another person in her head at the moment—one who lives to wreck her life—she figures internal reflection is not really an option to pass the time.

"_Da,_" he says. "This watercolor is quite beautiful. Look at the pallet he used."

"Oh, ah don't know all that much about art," she replies, looking at the painting herself. It seems to portray some fishermen and boats in a village, but she's afraid to make any assumptions. "Ah never was much for the museum trips they used to drag us on at school."

"I paint on my free time," Colossus says, still gazing at the painting. "Most of the artwork at the school is mine."

"Oh!" She pauses, remembering the way they'd seemed like portals to different worlds when she'd first seen them. "You got quite the skill, then, sugar. Ah was impressed by all the pictures when ah first walked in."

"_Spasibo,_" he says, smiling. "That means 'thank you'."

"In Russian, right?" Rogue wraps her arms around herself. "Where're you from?"

Colossus hesitates for a moment, no doubt wondering if she is trying to gather intelligence for a more nefarious purpose. She rolls her eyes. "If ah was trying to spy on y'all, ah wouldn't _ask. _Ah can literally see everything in your head with a touch. Ah just…well, ah figured ah'd make an effort to get to know the people ah'm working with."

He shrugs slightly. "I am from the Ust-Ordynski Collective in Siberia. Soviet." Pause. "I was born and raised on a farm."

"I grew up in a Bavarian circus," Nightcrawler offers, the '_v'_ sounding like a strained '_w'. _

"Ah'm from Mississippi," Rogue says. "Not much in the way of entertainment there." She grins. "And to think…here we are in _Japan, _doing what exactly?"

"_Da." _Colossus glances toward the doorway, where the guard is standing. "I am starting to wonder why Logan is being so secretive. I do not mind helping him…but we are not helping him right now. It has been almost an hour since he left."

"I could take a look around," Nightcrawler offers.

"Our friend probably wouldn't like that much," Rogue comments, also looking at the guard, who makes no sign of acknowledging their attention.

"We can handle him, if it comes to that," Colossus decides. "Go, Kurt. Find out where he is."

_**BAMF!**_

Nightcrawler suddenly disappears in a big poof of purple, foul-smelling smoke. Rogue coughs, choking on the fumes. "Lord, it smells like—"

"Burning sulfur?" Colossus suggests.

She shakes her head, blinking tears out of her eyes. "No, ah was gonna say like a rotten egg breaking wind. Where does it come from?"

"The Professor has not figured it out yet." Colossus frowns, seeing that their guard is approaching them with an angry look on his face. "Do you speak Japanese?"

"Not in the slightest," Rogue says. She hesitates. "Ah could…try touching him, if you need me to translate."

The Russian shakes his head. "_Nyet, _we will find other ways to communicate."

She feels relief, not really having cherished the thought of housing yet another inhabitant in her head at the moment. She can feel Carol simmering at the idea, too. It's nice, for once being told that she doesn't have to instantly become an expert at something. Mystique used to always order her to absorb whatever skills were needed at the moment.

Their Japanese guard begins to talk very rapidly and angrily to them, smacking one fist into his other hand, his displeasure clear. Both of them try to look like they are following the conversation, nodding every so often, but the lecture goes on and on—finally ending when the man begins to demand something of them. They can tell by his raised voice and the way he jabs the air with his finger.

"What does he want?" Rogue asks, mystified.

"I think he wants us to call Kurt back," Colossus says.

"That's exactly what he wants," Wolverine announces, suddenly entering the room. "Where the hell did the elf get off to?"

"He went looking for you," Rogue says.

"Why?" he frowns. "I wasn't gone that long."

"An hour," Colossus says. "Maybe longer. We began to worry."

"Sorry." He pauses. "Catching up with old friends, y'know."

"Right," Rogue says, arching her eyebrows. "You know your shirt's on backwards, right?"

Wolverine pauses. "Right," he says, trying not to seem embarrassed. "Well, that's not the issue here. We got to find Kurt and then you guys can turn in for the night. Need your support in the morning."

"You're not coming with us?" Colossus asks.

"Got some things to tend to," his friend answers.

"Ah see," Rogue says. "Well, ah'm not going to argue…ah'm about ready for a lie-down. Y'all have any idea where Nightcrawler might be at? Does he have a usual pattern or anything we could track?"

"He has to see where he's porting to," Wolverine says. "And I can smell that sulfur of his from a couple miles off, so this shouldn't take long. Come on."

They finally leave the room and head up the dimly-lit corridor. Rogue tucks her hands under her armpits, again terrified that she will accidentally knock over the entire house with a finger. The hallway leads out into a stone courtyard, complete with a fountain and a miniature garden. Wolverine stops at the door, frowning. "Trail goes cold out here."

"Where could he have gone?" Colossus asks.

"Up?" Rogue suggests.

Wolverine peers up into the night sky. "Don't think so. Come on…" he turns around. "Elf's probably in here somewhere. You two can get set up with rooms and I'll keep looking."

"We're staying here?" she asks, surprised.

"Yeah. This is Mariko's home. I had to make sure it was okay with her first." He pauses. "Might as well stay here so we can help her escape before the wedding. We'll leave at first light…let everyone get a bit of shut-eye first."

**…**

Rogue runs the soft brush through her long chestnut locks, examining her reflection in the mirror. Since the whole incident with Carol she's pretty much given up on applying make-up. For one thing, she feels like shit a lot. For another, she and her new mental companion can't agree on a look. Rogue prefers smokier looks, while Carol prefers more natural ones. If she tries doing _anything, _the other woman sabotages her and it comes out looking like clown make up.

The lack of make-up—along with the lack of quality sleep, since Carol likes to raise a ruckus just when she's slipping off to dreamland—leaves Rogue looking very tired. There are purple bags under her eyes, and her face looks pale and a little gaunt. _You'd never think I was invulnerable, _she thinks.

Shaking her head slightly, she sets the brush back down on the table as gently as she can, then backs away. Her eyes fall on the housecoat lying on the chair, but she's not even going to try taking off her skin coverings right now, in a houseful of strangers. This wouldn't have been an issue for her before…when she used to be able to control her powers. Now, however, the slightest touch starts the transfer up…and she doesn't fancy spending the rest of tomorrow trying to organize a bunch of random memories from the maid or something.

She crawls into the bed and pulls up the covers to her chin with a small smile. _Now, Carol, I know you're as tired as I am, _she thinks at the other woman. _Let's just agree to a cease fire for the night, okay? Consider it a favor to Wolverine…he needs me on-point tomorrow._

There is a definite pause. She can sense a grudging acceptance, and this surprises her.

_Only 'coz Logan's a good friend, _Carol clarifies hastily.

Rogue smiles as she closes her eyes. "Remind me to thank him in the morning," she says out loud in a very sleepy voice.


End file.
